New Beginnings: A Princesses of Warcraft Tale
by DonQ
Summary: What if Cinderella never got her happily ever after? What if she were given a better offer? First story in a series that will bring the Disney Princesses into conflict with the World of Warcraft. All reviews, comments, and critiques are welcome.
1. PoW Chapter 1

New Beginnings

A Princesses of Warcraft Tale

By Jorge Quiñones

Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie _Cinderella_ are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter One**

Their actions had not broken her. After the countless years of abuse, their actions had not even come as much of a surprise. It was the way they looked at her. She had fulfilled her obligations completely without question or complaint. She had not even had time to construct her dress for the Royal Ball; her friends had created the dress from her stepsisters' scraps and throwaways. Earlier, her stepsisters had sundered the gown in a flurry of rips and tears, each quick to reclaim her discarded trinket for no other reason than their petty jealousy.

Their malicious task done, both stepsisters had smiled their malevolent smiles and simply dropped their ill-gotten scraps at Cinderella's feet. With no more concern than one would show a beaten dog, the stepsisters spun on their heels and made their way towards the door, chatting excitedly about their prospects at the Royal Ball. Their own selfish expectations had quashed any sorrow or regret they might have felt for Cinderella's plight.

Kneeling down to collect the shredded remnants, Cinderella fought hard to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Such was her inner turmoil that she failed to notice the looming shadow behind her. She cried out in surprise as she felt a sharp pain on the back of her right hand. A detached part of her mind noted the fine polishing of her stepmother's inky-black leather boots. She had also flawlessly cobbled the new wooden sole to the bottom of the boot, the heel of which was pressed into the back of her hand.

Attempting to ignore the pain, Cinderella took a deep breath and slowly, reluctantly, raised her eyes to meet her stepmother's. Ever had the Lady Tremaine looked upon Cinderella with unveiled contempt, but something was different. Cinderella suppressed a shudder as she locked eyes with her stepmother. Vermin had been looked upon with more tolerance by the eyes that now bore into Cinderella. Wincing, but terrified of crying out, the young maiden bit down on her lip but refused to break eye contact, even as the cruel matron shifted her weight ever so slightly grinding her heel into the back of Cinderella's hand.

"You would dare?" The Lady Tremaine's challenge was meant for Cinderella's ears alone; the ragged whisper utterly dripped with venom.

Her instinct, honed from the years of living in the shadow of her stepmother, was to remain silent. Cinderella knew deep down that she had done no wrong. Her resolve hardened as she refused to be kowtowed.

"I did everything that you had as-" Both her reply and resolve were cut short by a barely-contained gasp of pain as both heel and hand received an even more generous helping of the Lady's weight.

Cinderella struggled to maintain eye contact, her shoulders beginning to shake with indignation, pain, and terror. She vaguely noted a warm wetness pooling around her hand and the fact that her stepmother had said nothing further; the Lady Tremaine had no need to. The unfettered rage and raw fury behind her eyes conveyed everything Cinderella needed to know: that she was a necessary evil, as valued in the household as fleas on Lucifer; that she had woefully erred in assuming that even if she had completed all of her chores, she would've been allowed to attend the ball. She had been desperately mistaken in assuming she was a human being.

That final realization finally tore asunder the last delicate thread of resolve Cinderella had left, its shredded remnants cascading around her like the tattered pieces of her dress. She squeezed her eyes shut and hung her head in defeat. The Lady Tremaine's lips curled up into a grin utterly devoid of mirth.


	2. PoW Chapter 2

New Beginnings

A Princesses of Warcraft Tale

By Jorge Quiñones

Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie _Cinderella_ are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter Two**

The kick was swift, vicious, unexpected. The point of impact was almost surgical in its precision as the pointed toe of the Lady Tremaine's boot impacted Cinderella's side just below her ribcage. Although Lady Tremaine was denied the audible snap of a pair of broken floating ribs, she smugly smiled to herself as the kick produced the desired effect. Cinderella cried out as her unguarded side exploded in pain. She slumped to her side, attempting to curl up into a defensive ball, even as the flash point of pain began to radiate to the rest of her body. Cinderella realized her right hand was still pinned under her stepmother's heel.

Now visibly shaking in terror and pain, Cinderella once again looked up to meet the Lady Tremaine's eyes. She suppressed a shudder as she beheld those unsympathetic eyes, that vicious smile. With building panic she ripped her eyes from her stepmother's and focused on her bleeding hand, shifted to the wooden heel pinning it to the tiled floor, and then back up to meet the hypnotic snake's eyes that bore down on her.

"No, please, please, no..." she pleaded, emphatically shaking her head, all the while trying to pull her hand free, desperately trying to ignore the painful sensation of her skin tearing.

Lady Tremaine's smile only broadened as she leaned forward, shifting all of her body weight to her sinister foot.

"Good night," she said, devoid of the usual sentiment associated with the phrase.

With a casual, almost bored air about her, the Lady Tremaine stood regally tall and turned on her heel towards the door, her foot completing the turn effortlessly. The motion was graceful, calculated, and cruel. She closed her eyes and allowed the feeling of pleasure to run down her spine as the sound of Cinderella's pained scream echoed off the walls of the foyer. She was rewarded once more with an even more tortured cry as she casually stepped towards the door, pushing off of Cinderella's hand to commence her forward locomotion.

Cinderella collapsed onto her uninjured side, curling up as much as her bruised ribs would allow. The hot tears pooled on the smooth floor as her sobs echoed off the walls. Defeated and broken, Cinderella lay upon the floor, her battered right hand cradled against her bosom. The stillness of the foyer was broken only by the rhythmic drip-drip of blood as it flowed down Cinderella's arm, of tears as they flowed down her cheeks. Her sobbing was quiet, purposefully restrained, least anything above a whisper bring further wrath upon her. The self-restraint, however, was a double-edged sword, as the stifled sobs also served to bring renewed waves of pain from her bruised ribs. So lost in despair was Cinderella, that she failed to hear the pitter-patter of minuscule feet, or the fluttering of feathered wings.


	3. PoW Chapter 3

New Beginnings

A Princesses of Warcraft Tale

By Jorge Quiñones

Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie _Cinderella_ are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter Three**

The mice had watched from their hiding places with their own tears spilling freely. They had stood by, utterly powerless and unable to help Cinderella. With the Lady Tremaine's departure, Lucifer, her equally cruel cat, had quickly grown bored of Cinderella's misery. The mice had waited only until they heard the cat's telltale muffled snores from upstairs before going to their fallen friend. They had tried to comfort her, but Cinderella did not hear them. She could not hear them. All the hopes, dreams, and deepest of wishes that had kept the maiden going since her father's passing had been completely and utterly crushed in the span of a few moments. Though the mice could not emotionally comfort their broken friend, Jacques lead the charge in doing what could be done, the birds also lending their assistance. Indeed, they were glad of something to do to help, as the same feeling of helplessness had begun to find purchase in their hearts.

Quickly, efficiently, and quietly, Cinderella's animal friends disposed of the shredded remnants of cloth that had been scattered across the floor and cleaned up the bloody footprints that lead to the front door. With the utmost care, Cinderella's battered hand, the back of which was nothing more than tattered flesh and quickly drying blood, was gently pried from her grasp. Although she did not attempt to pull back her hand, she did curl up even more, despite the increased pain in her side, and tightly squeezed her eyes shut. Cinderella's voice was no more than a hoarse and ragged whisper. Even Jacques was forced to strain his hearing to decipher the repetitive, rhythmic sound emanating from his friend.

"Please... no more... please..."

It broke Jacques' heart to see that, despite the eerie stillness of the hand that was being tended to, Cinderella had not stopped shaking. Her trembling was barely noticeable, the quaking of her shoulders being discernible only by the virtue of his comparatively diminutive size.

Their task complete, the mice returned the cleaned and bandaged hand to its original position, Cinderella's uninjured hand quickly coming up to cradle it. Jacques noted with quiet relief that, although Cinderella had not stopped shaking, she had at least ceased her desperately repeating pleas.

The floor of the foyer was once again spotless, devoid of any evidence of the crime that had been perpetrated within its walls. Indeed, what Lady Tremaine had done could be called nothing less than a crime. She had willfully, wantonly, utterly destroyed the innocent heart of a maiden who had never done anyone harm. To call the craven act anything short of a crime would be as much a travesty as the act itself.

Jacques quickly dismissed his fellow animals, urging them all to bed. The feeling of hopelessness had once again begun to creep into their hearts now that they lacked for something to do. Only Gus steadfastly refused to leave. And it was with heavy hearts that Jacques and Gus maintained a silent vigil over Cinderella. In silence, punctuated only by the faint sobs that echoed in the night, Cinderella grieved. Though she still did not mark the presence of her tiny friends, Jacques and Gus willed her to be whole again. They prayed that the strength in their hearts, wholly disproportionate to their size, would be lent to their friend. Time seemed to slow as Cinderella's sobs decreased in frequency and, at long last, ceased.


	4. PoW Chapter 4

New Beginnings

A Princesses of Warcraft Tale

By Jorge Quiñones

Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie _Cinderella_ are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter Four**

The pregnant moon was near its apex when she finally opened her eyes, rimmed red from the many tears shed, and the many yet to be shed. She sensed more than saw the presence of her friends. She reached out into the darkness with her un-bandaged hand.

"Jacques... Gus..." she said into the moonlit gloom, her voice small and terrified.

Two pairs of tiny furred claws gently gripped her open palm.

"We're here, Cinderelly. We're always here," said Jacques, pouring as much love and reassurance as he could into his words.

"Ya, here-here," chimed in Gus. Despite his usual bravado, Gus found that the tears threatening to spill from his eyes robbed him of his speech.

"Thank you," Cinderella said in her broken and hoarse whisper, "thank you."

Cinderella gently closed her fingers around the soft, tiny claws of her friends. Jacques and Gus both noted with growing concern the trembling in Cinderella's hand. Jacques' sharp sight picked up on Cinderella's face for a split-second as it passed in the moonlight. Her eyes were opened impossibly wide, darting back and forth panicked.

Releasing Jacques and Gus's hands, Cinderella forced herself to her feet with a pained groan. She clutched her bruised ribs and she made her way to the back door, limping as quickly as her injuries would allow her. Jacques and Gus followed a respectful distance behind, understanding Cinderella's primal need to be away from the house. They paused at the steps that led to the garden behind the house.

Pain flaring in her side and hand with her stride uneven, Cinderella hobbled toward the fountain at the far side of the garden. All the while she swung her head from side to side, her eyes wide as she searched for a release to the seething rage within her. The more she searched, the more the primal fury took hold of her. Her eyes were no longer her own, but the eyes of a caged beast.

As she neared the fountain, her gait became long and smooth, her hands balled into fists, and her breathing quickened. Cinderella's mind had simply stopped acknowledging the pain. She stood next to the small stone bench adjacent to the fountain with her shoulders and back hunched over, every muscle in her body tensed as the beast within her struggled to be free. Unwilling to be contained any longer, Cinderella vented her fury into the indifferent night, the unflinching moon bearing silent witness. With her feet planted firmly upon the earth, her head snapped back, her arms were thrown away from her body, and her back arched to a near-impossible degree.

Every sinew in her petite frame was pulled taut as an inhuman sound erupted from her throat. The cry was more than a scream, more than a roar. Although wordless, it carried a message of rage, injustice, unquenched vengeance, and of innocence lost. If the unearthly howl could have been given form, it would have been that of shattered dreams and decimated hopes.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Cinderella collapsed onto her knees. So utterly spent was she that she struggled briefly to hold herself up, her hands trembling upon the stone bench, before finally folding in on herself; her head resting upon her arms. The stonework of the bench was cool upon her burning cheek. Cinderella closed her eyes as the memory of a violated hand and bruised ribs returned to her. Although the events of the evening played in her mind's eyes, she did not cry with the bitterness and hopelessness she felt. She had no more tears to shed. She had realized that, for her, there would be no happily ever after. Lacking the strength to pull herself to her feet, Cinderella gave herself over to an exhausted sleep that would prove to be mercifully free of dreams.


	5. PoW Chapter 5

New Beginnings

A Princesses of Warcraft Tale

By Jorge Quiñones

Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie _Cinderella_ are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter Five**

The chiming of the distant clock tower striking midnight roused Cinderella from her sleep. She listened absentmindedly, looking around her as the vesper bells echoed in the night. Although her hand and ribs would be long in healing, already the sharp pains had become dull, throbbing reminders of her ordeal.

**Dong**

A fog began to roll in as Cinderella shivered slightly in the suddenly cool evening air.

**Dong**

She gently pulled herself to her feet, being ever mindful of her bruised ribs.

**Dong**

She limped to the fountain proper, leaning over to peer into the glassy surface of the water pooled in its basin.

**Dong**

The water had frozen solid; frost crystals obscuring the once-mirroring surface.

**Dong**

Cinderella shivered again as the air turned a biting cold.

**Dong**

She watched in growing surprise as her breath misted before her.

**Dong**

Cinderella was not unsettled by the growing cold; it was not unheard of for there to be overnight frosts.

**Dong**

Something tugged at the back of her mind as the fog continued to thicken.

**Dong**

Cinderella realized that she was not alone.

**Dong**

She turned her head this way and that, trying to get her bearings; she could no longer see the house.

**Dong**

Before her the fog thinned and parted. Amid the still foggy clearing stood a tall gentleman resplendent in full plate armor, a massive broadsword held before him. Although the deep steel and silver coloring of the armor gave the stranger a kingly aura, Cinderella was shocked to see that the armor bore not the knightly heraldry of gryphon and lions, but instead a motif echoing the dead.

**Dong**


	6. PoW Chapter 6

New Beginnings

A Princesses of Warcraft Tale

By Jorge Quiñones

Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie _Cinderella_ are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter Six**

Cinderella immediately noted, with a growing sense of both wonder and confusion that the fog that had so suddenly covered the courtyard appeared to be emanating from the great weapon beneath the knight's hands. The stranger's stance was one of ease; both of his hands rested upon the pommel of a greatsword, the point of which rested in the earth. The cross-guard of the mighty weapon was fashioned in the image of a ram's skull. The sword's blade was no less intimidating; although one edge of the blade was entirely smooth save for a parrying hook, the half closest to the cross-guard of the other edge was deeply serrated. Runes deeply etched down the flat of the blade glowed blue with eldritch power. The edges of the runeblade reflected the moonlight, giving testament to their keenness.

As the fog continued to recede, more and more of the stranger became visible. The knight's armor was an embodiment of death. Every single piece of the thick plate, from the pauldrons that adorned his massive shoulders, to the sabatons that covered his booted feet, bore the visage of skulls ringed in deadly armored spikes; the gauntlets at his wrists, girdle at his waist, and greaves at his shins were no exception. Only the breastplate that protected his broad chest was distinctly free of the deathly heraldry. A tunic and breeches fashioned of a dark tightly knit fabric peeked from between the various armored segments; a thick cloak made of similar material billowed behind him. The subtlest features of all were the iced stalactites and frost that covered various pieces of the heavy plate.

The tall stranger's face appeared deathly pale and rather gaunt, but his slightly unruly mane of white and kindly smile gave him an air of boyish charm. It was only then that what Cinderella had originally perceived as a trick of the moon's light was, in fact, quite real: the knight's eyes literally smoked blue with eldritch power.


	7. PoW Chapter 7

New Beginnings

A Princesses of Warcraft Tale

By Jorge Quiñones

Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie _Cinderella_ are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter Seven**

The maiden and the knight stood regarding each other, she with guarded apprehension and he with something akin to pride. The knight's smile was the sort that came easily to one used to setting his subjects at ease. His expression was wholly one of a master observing his pupil on the verge of some great realization. His deathly pallor and preternaturally glowing eyes did nothing to lessen this demeanor. Although not disturbed by his features, Cinderella found herself growing more and more disquieted by the deafening silence.

"Who are you?" she all but blurted out.

Cinderella quickly closed her mouth and cast her eyes towards the earth. The stranger was obviously a man of station and Cinderella grew fearful that her query would be construed as insolence.

The stranger's smile broadened to reveal pearly white teeth. His voice was sonorous with a strange harmonic quality that gave Cinderella that impression of two voices speaking as one.

"We are Ner'zhul. We are Arthas Menethil. We are many, but we are one."

Cinderella's eyes widened in alarm as a single word seared itself into her mind's eye: Legion. She unconsciously took a step back, fighting to suppress the shiver that shot up her spine.

"What do you want?"

Despite the evident bulk of the massive runeblade, the knightly being easily picked up the weapon and closed the distance between him and the young maiden. Cinderella noted in passing that with every step he took towards her, she found herself more and more at peace. The being that had identified himself as Ner'zhul-Arthas reached out a gloved hand and gently brushed a stray lock of hair that had rested along Cinderella's cheek.

"Long have we searched for one who could claim our power, one who could wield our strength to bring justice and order to a world where none exists. You called us. Through space, through time, through the Nether itself, your rage and your pain called to us."

The knight's voice was soothing, almost hypnotic. Cinderella shook her head in a vain attempt to clear the fog that had begun to settle in her mind. It took her a moment to realize that the greatsword was being held out to her with the blade resting along the knight's arm, his hand supporting the cross-guard. The hilt of the mighty runeblade beckoned her, bid her take the weapon as her own.

"We offer you the power to seek the retribution you so rightly deserve." he intoned, the patience of ages unwaveringly holding the massive sword up.

Time slowed as Cinderella found herself holding the great weapon in her petite hands, though she could not recall having taken it. Despite its size, Cinderella easily held the sword aloft, the keen blade becoming an extension of her arm. She closed her eyes as the essence of the weapon filled her very being. Mellifluent words whispered at the edge of Cinderella's subconscious as the runeblade's power coursed through her blood, wooing her with the promise of even greater power.

Cinderella breathed a single word; a name spoken with a reverence befitting the sentient weapon's strength: "Frostmourne."

Eyes the color of a clear midday sky met with eyes that smoked an eldritch blue. Although the knight did not move his lips, Cinderella heard his words echoing in her mind.

"Do you accept?"

Cinderella tightened her grip on Frostmourne as any hesitation she might have felt melted away with the soothing voice of the runeblade.

"Yes..." Her answer was barely audible, spoken with a breathless desire she had never before felt.

The knight smiled his easy smile and closed his eyes. His face and neck, the only parts of him that were unarmored, dissipated into the night sky. The now vacant armor clattered upon the earth in a heap of plate and fabric.


	8. PoW Chapter 8

New Beginnings

A Princesses of Warcraft Tale

By Jorge Quiñones

Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie _Cinderella_ are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter Eight**

Cinderella tilted her head and regarded the piled plate armor with a child-like curiosity. There was no hesitation or uncertainty in her movements as she gently and reverently laid Frostmourne upon the stone bench beside her. Without regard to the chilled midnight air she no longer felt, Cinderella stripped herself of the tattered dress and unceremoniously cast aside the shredded cloth. From the jumble of steel and fabric at her feet she drew forth the tunic and breeches. The inky black of the material stood in sharp contrast to her fair skin as she donned the items. Without pause she reached for the leathern boots and gloves, neither noticing nor caring that the once-voluminous material had shrunken and elongated to fit her much smaller feminine frame.

As piece by piece of the bulky plate adjusted itself to fit its new master, so too did Cinderella change to fit her new armor. It was as if her very life was ebbing away; where once fair skin and peach-hued lips had adorned her face, now a deathly pale pallor and blue-tinged lips stood. Her hair was still akin to the blonde she had carried her whole life, but, with every piece of armor that was fastened to her person, the color and luster became utterly washed out, leaving her hair near-translucent in its appearance.

Fully dressed in the death knight's fearsome plate, Cinderella drew herself to her full height and closed her eyes. She felt the weight of the voluminous cloak settle about her shoulders; she felt the various sections of the armor shift slightly as they settled on her frame. Where the knight had been a veritable bull within the suit of armor, Cinderella was now a sleek panther within the same plate. Even with her eyes closed, Cinderella found she could "see" Frostmourne atop the stone bench at her right; she could hear its voice. She grasped the hilt of the runeblade and brought the weapon up, a content sigh escaping her lips as a wave of comfort suffused her. With the precision of ritual, Cinderella drew back the edge of the cloak and brought Frostmourne across her body, sheathing the blade in a single smooth motion. She stood a moment, allowing the midnight breeze to pass over her. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind was her only companion.


	9. PoW Chapter 9

New Beginnings

A Princesses of Warcraft Tale

By Jorge Quiñones

Disclaimers: Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, Jacques, Gus, Lucifer, and all things referencing the classic 1950 Disney movie _Cinderella_ are property of The Walt Disney Company. Ner'zhul, Arthas Menethil, Frostmourne, the concept of the Lich King, the Death Knight, and the Deathcharger are property of Blizzard Entertainment. Fourteen years of Warcraft, and going strong! The story elements written within this fanfic are my ideas and belong to me. This was written for fun, not profit. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. We fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and all comments/questions/flames/etc. Are welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

**Chapter Nine**

Cinderella finally opened her eyes as a crunch amid the leaves before her stirred her from her reverie. She tilted her head slightly as she observed the gargantuan bulk that pushed its way through the brush; a serene and child-like smile adorning her ashen lips. A magnificent charger walked into the clearing by the fountain; the barding upon its body chinking softly in the suddenly still air as its cindered hooves struck flames where they stepped. The great steed stopped before Cinderella, dipping its head with a soft neigh. It was only at this distance that Cinderella could clearly see that the beast's eyes smoked ethereal blue. She ran an appraising eye along the body of the massive equine, taking in the sturdiness of the plate segments, the well-tended condition of the saddle, and the partially denuded bones of its rear left leg. She turned loving eyes to the charger's head, admiring the craftsmanship of the champron; only in passing did she realize that what she had thought was an extension of the skull-inspired crafting of the armor was in fact the lower jaw of the great horse. Cinderella reached up and ran an affectionate hand down the neck of the deathcharger; her hands running alternately over the plates of the criniere and the few exposed vertebrae in between the armored segments.

Her hand suddenly stopped at the saddle a mere whisper in front of the great helm that sat perched upon the horn. With great reverence, she lifted the helm from the horn and began to examine it. Cinderella turned it in her hands, admiring the unholy images that encompassed its design. Still holding the helm, the armored maiden swung up into the saddle in a single fluid motion, despite the great size of the charger. She sat there a moment, feeling a sense of completeness she had never before known.

A whisper at the edge of her consciousness caught Cinderella's attention. She turned her head to the side, adopting the pose of one listening over their shoulder. Her lips curled into a sensuous smile as she turned her eyes towards the direction of the castle.

"Of course… the ball…" she said aloud. Her voice began as her own, but quickly became something darker, inhuman. "Mustn't miss the ball." A strange sonorous echo entered her voice, giving it the impression of many voices speaking as one. "After all, we were invited…"

The mighty deathcharger began to dance with anticipation. Feeling its master's intent was spurring the creature to action, though he had been given no command to move. Cinderella looked upon the great helm one last time. She closed her eyes and lifted the final armored piece high and began to lower it onto her head. As with the whole of her suit, the helm began to alter its shape; shortening here, elongating there, and becoming the proper size for the maiden. All sound and movement ceased around Cinderella as the helm settled upon her head. Eldritch blue power smoked from between her pale lids as she opened her eyes. The charger began to dance even more, its master's will dominating all else within its being. With a silent command, the armored deathcharger and its equally armored rider stormed down the dirt road towards the castle; naught but deep flaming hoof prints were left in their wake.

From within the great helm, the Lich King smiled.


End file.
